An Orthodox Love
by orthodoxaslove
Summary: Claire is now faced with her senior year of high school,and the unrequited love of her best friend Quil. What happens when a member of the pack imprints on Rory, Claire's new lab partner with a secret past destined to shape their future.
1. Success?

Walking down the halls of La Push high school wearing my favorite gray zebra striped sweatshirt and most worn in pair of faded jeans, you'd think I'd be comfortable after successfully completing three full years here. I watch the floor as I walk and slip my fingers into the pocket of my hoodie knowing exactly where I'm headed by the familiar cracks along the floor. I continue along routinely making the appropriate twists and turns to avoid any unnecessary body contact when I receive a slam to the left shoulder that's hard enough to send me reeling across the hallway. Yeah, totally deliberate. "Shit!" I snap my head around to watch as the perpetrator- obviously attempting to cling onto whats left of a long gone summer clad in a micro mini and flip flops- tosses her bobbed brown tresses and turns with a faux rapidness that suggests she hadn't noticed there was anyone even standing within the same _universe_ as her, let alone in the same vicinity.

"Oops." she gasps with wide eyes, tilting her head to the side and bringing a freshly manicured hand up to cover her gaping mouth. "Did I do that?" her lips pout at me as if to say _aw, poor baby._ It's not exactly repentant, and I remain increasingly unconvinced by her exaggerated remorse. She's walking backwards now, the pout slipping into a self-fulfilled smirk and her gaggle of friends mimic her every step, retreating at a pace that would make a sloth envious. A pair of one of their boots clip clap against the tiles with each synchronized movements farther and farther away from me, insignificant spec of a human being that I am.

"Brittany." I acknowledge cooly, satisfied immediately when her lips pucker at my disinterested tone, causing my own to twitch up slightly on the right. My shoulder starts tingling like pins and needles.

Her chin juts out as her brown eyes lock with my amused ones. "I'm sorry," she tells me, but by the way her sickly sweet tone causes her neck to constrict and taking into account that her eyes have now narrowed down to slits you can tell the sentiment isn't exactly heartfelt. "Do I know you?" The gaggle giggles and I am suddenly fighting the urge to stick my finger down my throat to show them exactly what I think about how pathetic they all are. I roll my eyes instead. _Gag me._ I deduce right away that I might as well have yanked a white flag out of my ass and danced a jig around the hallway if her response was any indication, seeing as her nose shot straight up into the air and she grinned at me victoriously before spinning on her heel and sashaying down the hallway, all delivered with such a convincing air of dramatics I half expected her to pivot and take a bow. Hell, I might have even clapped.

Sadly though, this was not your standard _romcom_ staged for your viewing pleasure and formatted to fit your screen, this was my life- and while I often like to entertain the idea that I'm *Jim Halpert and on a whim could look into a waiting camera to let the world know what I'm thinking with just one strategically warped facial expression- that is simply not how things work in reality.

So instead, I laugh. I laugh as my red converse squeak when I do a pivot of my own and continue on my way to class. I laugh harder as I pass through the freshmen hallway where I am on the receiving end of endless _what the fuck _looks and have to tug my hood farther down my forehead. And I laugh some more when I slump into my assigned seat and learn that today is the day we get to dissect a poor_ defenseless_ frog _(thus making him the perfect candidate, I suppose) _with a scalpel to poke and prod at its organs and my lab partner, Phillis, turns green immediately at the thought of it and precedes to lose her breakfast right then and there, thereupon causing her retainer to dislodge and go sliding across the floor until it's momentum in stopped by none other that Mr. Banner's _"three hundred dollar Armani " _shoe.

Ah damn. Did I say my school career has been successful? I'm sorry. You have been misinformed. What I meant to say was: I'm Claire, soon to be eighteen, welcome to my senior year; my **last** year. _Thank freaking Geezus._

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A/N: So what do you guys think? This is my first twilight story but I've been toying with the idea for a really long time. I know this chapter is short but the next is already longer, and should be up in a day or two, and you get to meet Rory. You might be a little surprised when you get to the end of it, but I hope that won't discourage you. Please leave me a review! Critique, questions, opinions, whatever- I don't care, flame me if you must, just so long as there's feedback! Thank you so much for reading!

*Jim Halpert is a character on the show The Office- probably THE greatest show like... ever.

_romcom = _romantic comedy.


	2. Stick to the script

Having been the new kid thirteen times in the past three years, I can honestly tell you that it is always the same. High school is probably _the most_ cliche thing to ever exist in the history of existence. And I mean that with utmost sincerity and not one trace of sarcasm- really. - only stating a mere fact of life.

Every "misled youth" action from the football players picking on the band geeks to sex after prom. Every adult that dishes out the same tacky sayings like how it's "the best time of your lives" or "it is the mouse race to prepare you for the rat race". God, I'm even cliche for _saying_ high school is cliche. It's _**that**_ overdone. It's like, everybody has got this script, you know? And nobody deviates from that script**.** _Not one. _And no matter how original you think you are- it's been done before. Trust me; I should know.

And while I still maintain that the fate of a highschool-er is either doomed to be self-conscious and miserable or revered and, for lack of a better word: "_cool_", even I have to admit, roaming the halls of La Push High has me a little thrown. I mean, _everyone looks the same. _I kid you not and exaggerations be damned, I have yet to see one single student here who isn't... well... _brown._ I mean, some are shorter than others or fatter than others and I guess their hair cuts might be a little different, and I probably should have expected as much when they said the school would be on a _reservation,_ but even with thirteen_ high schools _alone under my belt, I did not see this coming. Being somewhat tan myself, you might suggest that finding myself in this situation could be a good thing, help to blend me into the crowd a little. I might even be presumptuous enough to agree with you in this theory, if only there wasn't one minor flaw to this notion- that being the substantial _absence _of crowd, which also threw me. Though thinking about it, it does makes sense. I mean, they didn't call it the Trail of Tears for nothing now did they?

So to say the least, besides the serious lack of consideration as far as how a high school's population may vary on a small reservation in a small town, things were all going according to plan. Everyone was following their scripts exactly. Some turned to gawk curiously while simultaneously trying to be discrete, but ultimately failing miserably_(they always do)_ while others stuck to the full figure eye sweep before mentally deeming me unworthy of further acknowledgment. Remembering afore mentioned population issue, my presents did turn a few more heads in general, but not so many that made me doubt the script. Everyone notices the new kid, makes no difference what you wear or how practicedly impassive your body language. You can never hide- especially in a place so minuscule where one can only assume the word stranger probably doesn't even exist.

Ah-ha, room number one hundred fifty six, just where the principal and her helpfully highlighted map said it would be. There may have been a few encouraging words thrown around there too, something along the lines of "Don't be nervous," or maybe an encouraging smile. I don't know- I couldn't really muster up the decency to pay attention. Besides, I've heard it all before- not even faculty play around with the script. I'm telling you, it's like, **law.**

Just as I'm reaching for the door knob, the thing suddenly swings open at me. I'm hardly allotted enough time to let out a surprise appropriate gasp, let alone get out of the way, only I do- sort of. It's like I'm moving with the door, I am _one_ with the door, and we both strain to reach the middle of the hall to allow whatever force of nature is compelling us both forward for one urgent reason or another. But, alas, it would seem it only takes a millisecond of a difference for a person to either remain completely unscathed or to receive the painful THWACK of a doorknob to the bicep. _Shit. _Oh yeah, that's gonna bruise.

A girl runs past me half hunched over with both hands covering her mouth and in such a haste that she doesn't even seem to register that fact that I'm standing about a foot from her- _what's that smell?_- forget that she just rammed me in the arm with a _door_- but in that instant I feel a sudden fondness for this smelly hunchback girl. Attempted murder and probable mental illness aside, she treated me like every other nameless face you pass by on a daily basis. And let me tell you, after being shoved under spotlight after spotlight for as long as I can remember, you can bet it felt damn good to be invisible.

The sound of laughter makes me remember where I am and I stop staring after smelly hunchback to turn and face my fate. The door still having been held open by my now throbbing limb, the eyes of an irate teacher lock on mine instantly. "Mr. Chavez, I presume?" he asks through gritted teeth, his chest rising and falling rapid fire.

And cue spotlight. Ah well, back to the script.

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A/N: No, that is not a typo and yes, Rory is, indeed, a boy. Any opinions? Questions? Love me? Hate me? Think I write the worst crap you have ever had the misfortune to stumble upon? Lemme know... REVIEW! x)


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